


divaricate

by hikaie



Series: 31 Days of Apex [4]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Apex Legends Quest: The Broken Ghost, Canon Compliant, Flirting, Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:28:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25247674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikaie/pseuds/hikaie
Summary: a favor paid, or,Bloodhound still needs to learn to think before they speak.
Series: 31 Days of Apex [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1821931
Kudos: 27





	divaricate

**Author's Note:**

> So, re: the flirting tag; this is _not_ BH/Loba, but Loba is a damn flirt, so there. (I hate tagging any little ship and then exciting people looking for content for no reason. I mean if you want to read it like that you're more than allowed to, I won't stop you. But I don't think it warrants the tag is all.)
> 
> Trying to catch up reaaaaally slowly. Might put out another one today but we'll see. Set during Broken Ghost, so some spoilers if you haven't been keeping up. There will be a 'solo' fic for both BH and Loba, they just lucked out that I had nothing planned for these prompts and threw them together.
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> **Days 7 & 8: Mask; Healing**

_You have a sharp tongue_ , Artur had told them, once. - _but a slow wit_. When they were still young, it stung. There were many things he said and did that hurt them, but they had spent much of their childhood entrenched in the hurting, and only after he was gone did they see the meaning in his words. Bloth was no dullard, but they did not think before they spoke, and what they said was often harsh, if true.

Loba has her back to the wall and her eyes are distant, and they are nursing their drink and their shame. There has never been any sense in feeling guilty for the things they say, but they are only human. They had spoken in anger, but they didn’t _not_ mean it.

_Then don’t sleep._

She hadn’t, from what Bloth could tell. There were well-hidden dark circles under her carefully applied makeup, and she hardly strayed from the private room, as if it offered her more protection than elsewhere. Bloth personally figured the simulacrum enjoyed playing with his food too much. She would be easy to kill. A thief does not an assassin make. No, the robot must have his reasons for leaving her alive, but she was buried too far in her own thirst for revenge to think rationally.

Bloth could sympathize. It was a dark place, to have the blood and honor of one’s family on their hands. Looking at her hurt- that could be them, the hurt child encased in an exterior of toughened, closed-off adult. Who would they have been, with parents? Who would they have been, had Artur not died? The Norns had woven them a complicated fate, and Bloth had spent countless hours trying to detangle the tapestry in their mind. But they were not like Wraith- they were not privileged to know how their choices might affect the future. They could only make the decisions as destiny had always intended.

That thought quelled their embarrassment somewhat. What they said was something Loba needed to hear.

“Ms. Andrade.” They murmur, and her eyes snap to them.

“Yes?”

“I shall not be leaving for some time.” They tap the rim of their glass and the ice within tinkles. “If you would like to get some rest.”

“While I appreciate the sentiment,” She says, sounding like she doesn’t mean a word of it, “I cannot trust someone who could easily be in the _demonio’s_ pocket.”

“There is no reason I have to ally with Revenant.”

“Everyone has skeletons, beautiful.” Loba shifts her shoulders. Bloth watches her twitch around, trying to find comfort between the tile floor and concrete wall. They wonder how her feet must feel, cramped into the heeled shoes she favors. Bloth had worn heels once, and decided they were useless and not to be bothered with.

“Flattery, Ms. Andrade, does not work on someone such as myself.” They turn in their seat, and her knees go tense.

“It is a… habit.” She murmurs. “Though I’ve quite the discerning eye. I don’t think I’m wrong.”

“Hm.” They glance over at the bed where Wattson is still lying unconscious. Mirage left several hours ago, and even Caustic and Wraith had retired for the evening. No doubt one of them would be back before the morning, but as it stood… “I owe you an apology… but to be honest, I am not willing to be indebted to someone such as yourself.”

Loba breathes a startled laugh. “Nice to see some of you have brains.”

They bite their tongue. Sometimes they are capable of it.

“Yes.” They reach up and begin to undo the many clasps of their mask, releasing first the respirator before taking off the helmet. The woman is quiet, and her eyes look rather dark amongst the smudged liner around them. Finally they pull their goggles off, and the air feels cold against the sweaty pressure marks left behind. They smooth a gloved hand over their hair, loosening the low bun it’s kept in, and they sigh at the quiet between them. “Will you sleep, now?”

They don’t like the way she smiles, with its certain serpent-like quality. They feel her eyes on their scars, an acute sense of formication that makes them turn away. Bloth clears their throat. “I asked a question.”

“Good to see a lady’s intuition continues to ring true.” Loba says in lieu of a genuine response. Bloth feels an irritating flush start up at their hairline, no doubt running ugly and splotchy into their cheeks.

“We are even, as I see it.” Bloth tries not to let their discomfort show in their words, and takes a steadying drink, sighing after they swallow. “I would sleep, were I you, while the others are still gone.”

“Hmph.” They hear her shifting around, and look out the corner of their eyes to see her shuffling out of her heels, tossing them to the side with a sigh. “Fine.” She makes herself comfortable in the corner, with a wall to support her on either side, and it doesn’t take long for her breathing to drop off. What a life of comfort she must be used to, to have retained that ability to fall so quickly into slumber.

Bloth waits only a few minutes after she’s fallen asleep to replace their gear, only leaving their mouth free to finish their drink. It is certainly an odd thing, to admit their mistakes, let alone atone for them. They hope that Artur would be proud.


End file.
